


This is the Multiverse

by spoonsoftea



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 11:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8577319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spoonsoftea/pseuds/spoonsoftea
Summary: Link knows Rhett has something on his mind, he just isn't sure why they had to go camping in the middle of the desert to discuss it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to Peder, our lonely gay hero.
> 
> (You know that show-don't-tell thing writers are supposed to do? Yeah, that doesn't happen here.)

The desert is, as expected, hot. 

Link pushes his glasses up, slippery sweat causing them to slide down the bridge of his nose. In the same gesture, he brushes his hair back from his face and tries to remember why he agreed to come camping out in the middle of nowhere with Rhett in the first place. It’s the same spot Rhett had come last time, a patch of sand with a small tree, sparse vegetation, and miles and miles of clear blue sky. It’s pretty, but nothing they haven’t seen before. It’s something they haven’t done before – the last time they went camping just the two of them, it was for a brainstorming session. Nowadays, they bring their kids camping. This is different, but Link doesn’t yet know why.

Rhett’s already got the tent bag open and is pulling out poles. Link watches him for a moment, taking a hefty gulp of water. Rhett’s forehead is glistening with moisture and his breathing’s a bit heavy, but his eyes are bright and focused. Link’s seen that look before, but it usually signals a new obsession, something Rhett’s discovered that he can’t let go, like shooting crows or finding fossils or surfing. But this is just camping. They’ve been doing this since they were kids. 

With a last swig of water, Link joins Rhett in setting up the tent. It’s too hot for words, so they’re silent as they fit the poles through the sleeves and prop the tent upright. They rotate counter-clockwise around the perimeter, each hammering in stakes to secure the tent to the ground, and then Link leaves Rhett to set up the fly while he brings the sleeping bags and mats inside and unrolls them. Rhett, now shirtless, removes the folding lawn chairs they’ve brought (at Link’s insistence, but mostly for Rhett’s back) and sets them around the remains of the fire pit. Within ten minutes, the basics are done and they collapse, sweaty and boneless, under the desert sun. 

‘Water,’ says Rhett at last, and digs two new bottles out of the cooler. He throws one to Link, who fumbles the catch but saves it from falling. Rhett smirks but says nothing. 

‘So,’ says Link, feeling a bit more human after gulping thirstily at the cold water, ‘this is what you did last time, huh?’

Rhett makes a sound of affirmation, tilting his head back. ‘Peaceful, ain’t it?’

‘Hot,’ says Link, complaining but not meaning it. 

‘Take your shirt off,’ Rhett replies, eyes closed. 

Deciding that Rhett will talk when he wants to, Link peels himself out of the cotton t-shirt he’s wearing and hangs it loosely over the back of his chair. He already smells stale and rank, even though he’d showered last night. Rhett is shining and golden next to him, but Link can feel himself burning, so he heaves himself out of the chair to find the sunscreen. 

He feels Rhett’s eyes on him as he spreads the lotion over his chest and shoulders. ‘Want some?’ he offers, taking a last squirt from the bottle before tossing it in Rhett’s direction. He rubs it into his neck and ears, knowing the disapproving cluck Christy will give him if he comes home with blistering sunburns. The image is enough to bring a smile to his face.

‘I’m starving,’ Rhett says instead, catching the sunscreen easily and setting it down. At Link’s raised eyebrows, he adds, ‘I applied this morning, man. Some of us thought ahead.’

‘Some of us aren’t sure why what we’re even doin’ out here,’ Link shoots back, but Rhett’s bent over in the cooler searching for food and says nothing. With a small sigh, Link ambles over, and they fix themselves simple sandwiches for lunch. Rhett’s in charge of slicing the cheese; Link is kept away from the knife and instructed to assemble the sandwiches instead. They argue over the best way to layer ingredients and jostle elbows as they eat.

A few clouds drift slowly over their camp, nothing to indicate rain, but a welcome respite from the blistering heat. As they eat, Link shoots a glance or two in Rhett’s direction, but his friend either doesn’t notice or ignores him. The behaviour is at odds with how Rhett’d been acting all week – determined, energetic, working intensely one moment and drifting off into space the next. Link figures Rhett’s got something on his mind and he’ll talk when he’s ready. 

Gradually, with the help of food and water, their energy returns. They decide to go walking around for a bit, poking about and looking at stuff, and along the way they throw ideas back and forth, a lyric of a song, a plot for a sketch, a game for the show. It’s not serious enough for them to really get into it, although it could, and easily – but Link senses that Rhett is reluctant to argue with him right now. Their creative process is built on arguments, on disagreement, on debate. It’s their tried-and-true refining process, the way they use two minds instead of one, they way Rhett’s ideas clash with Link’s precision, and it works. 

But arguing is arguing, and they have never been able to stay objective. Things get personal, even ugly sometimes. So if Rhett wants to avoid that right now, here in the desert, just the two of them side by side, then Link can let it be. He goes along with it, pushing the limit a bit just to test him, curious and impatient – but he waits. 

They find a place where a creek might once have been, the sand fine and soft. Link finds a weird rock and they remember Rhett’s fervent fossil obsession, lying dormant now but simmering still. Link is glad that phase is over, and he says so. 

‘Fossils are cool, man,’ Rhett defends himself, but the energy with which he once would have said so is gone. Link pokes him in the ribs, grinning when Rhett jerks away.

‘Sure they’re cool,’ he says, in the tone of voice that says _I have never cared about anything less_. ‘Next time, pick something I can actually get into, huh?’

‘Maybe I got a new interest already,’ Rhett says, arching his brow. ‘One you don’t know about.’

‘Nah, man.’ Link shakes his head, certain. ‘Jessie would’ve told me.’

‘My wife doesn’t tell you everything,’ Rhett shoots back, kicking a pebble with his toe.

‘Sure she does,’ Link replies easily. ‘We tackle this stuff together. We’re a team, you know.’

It seems to Link that something changes in the air in the next moment. Rhett slows; his eyes soften. ‘I know,’ he says, voice kind of quiet and low. His smile is a bit wistful, Link thinks, and he gets the feeling that Rhett’s thoughts are both far, far away and close enough to touch. 

Link has the incredible talent of talking ahead of his brain, has put his foot in his mouth and his head in his ass more times than he can count. But in this moment, where for some reason it seems to really matter, he catches his tongue before it can run away and says nothing, instead nudging his shoulder against Rhett’s upper arm. Just once, gentle and warm. Rhett shoots him a smile, thankful but distant, and they walk on.

Rhett isn’t his wife – doesn’t look much like Christy at all, being tall and bearded and dudely – but right then Link has an absurd urge to take Rhett’s hand, to put their palms together and entwine their fingers right there as they walk side by side under the high desert sun. 

/*/

They have fire-roasted hot dogs for dinner, a feast of processed cheese, ketchup, mustard, relish, and buns laid out before them. Rhett eats his first like a starving man and the second like someone who doesn’t know when his next meal will be. 

Link is never more homesick for North Carolina than he is watching Rhett eat the food he loves. Most of the time he loves California, loves the sun and the city and the people, and most of all he loves their job, loves that their success enables them to do the things they want. But this – just the two of them, camping out in the wild, watching Rhett chow down on a hot dog – it makes him miss the time before they moved. Before L.A. and health fads and chia seeds and early morning workouts and kombucha and no-dairy diets and competitive diving…

‘What?’ says Rhett around a mouthful of food, one eyebrow cocked.

Link’s been staring. ‘You got mustard on your face,’ he says.

The sun is still bright and the fire is too hot, but it’s good. Link shuffles his chair back a few inches and tilts the brim of his hat down over his eyes, tipping his face toward the sky. For a few minutes there is quiet, only the crackling of the small fire and the occasional shuffling of movement to break the silence. Link doesn’t like being alone, would never have come out into the desert by himself, but this is nice. 

He cracks open and eye and lifts his hat, throwing a hand out to nudge Rhett’s bicep. ‘Pass the hot dogs.’

Rhett lifts an eyebrow. ‘How many have you had?’

‘Two,’ says Link. ‘We’re camping. Live a little, huh?’

It takes a moment, but finally Rhett hands Link the bag of hot dogs. Link takes two out and sets the bag on the ground, listening for the telltale rustling of plastic that will tell him what he wants to know. When he looks back over, Rhett is holding two buns and an expression that says he isn’t fooled by Link’s unsubtle gesture. ‘Just eat the hot dog, man,’ Link says, and reaches over to grab a bun while tossing the uncooked wiener in Rhett’s lap. 

‘Link,’ says Rhett, almost warningly, but Link disregards him in favour of picking up his roasting stick.

‘Remember when we were kids, we’d cut the ends and they’d curl as they cooked?’ Link says, brushing the dirt off his roasting stick. 

‘Spider dogs,’ says Rhett, a ghost of a smile cracking the set of his face. ‘Yeah, man.’

‘How’d we do it?’ Link asks, searching for a knife. ‘Halfway down or somethin’, right?’

‘Two on both sides. Be careful,’ says Rhett, eyes on Link’s hands as he cuts two slits in each end of his hot dog. 

‘We need sharper knives,’ Link mutters, struggling for a moment to get the knife through. He hands the knife over to Rhett, who snorts as he takes it. 

‘You do not need a sharper knife,’ he says, making the cuts in his own hot dog. Link slides the hot dog on his roasting stick and sets it over the flames, nibbling absently at the bun as he watches the grease drip off his dinner. Rhett’s joins his a moment later, the fire hissing periodically. They watch as the ends of their hot dogs curl backwards, until both are hot and cooked and resemble two odd spiders being spit roasted over the flames.

‘This takes me back,’ says Rhett, pulling a leg off his spider dog and popping it into his mouth. ‘We should do this for our kids, man. They don’t go camping enough.’

Link hums an agreement, ignoring the cooked meat in favour of the bun he’s been picking at. ‘We’re raising California kids, dude.’

‘We’re doing good,’ Rhett says, and Link is surprised into looking over at him. Rhett is focused on the flames, gaze unwavering as he eats. Link can only see his profile; it’s a sight he’s well-used to, what with Rhett always sitting at his side behind the desk. Rhett doesn’t smile. Link tells himself he doesn’t know the reason for his friend’s sombre mood, but something – a whisper, deep in the back of his mind, or maybe buried at the bottom of his heart – tells him otherwise.

‘Yeah, we are,’ Link agrees, and tilts his roasting stick to the side. Rhett wordlessly takes the hot dog off the end of it and shoves the whole thing in his mouth, and Link laughs. 

/*/

The sun finally sets, and Link sighs in relief as the temperature drops. They build up the fire a bit more, eager to have higher flames now that it’s dark. Link leaves Rhett fiddling with the logs and goes to the truck to plug their phones in to charge. He doesn’t check either for texts, which is unusual for him, but for some reason the urge to do so is absent. 

When he returns, Rhett is pulling two beers out of the cooler. He cracks both open and takes a hearty swig from one of them, handing the other to Link. The bottle is cold and wet with melted ice, but it feels nice in his hand and the taste is comfortably familiar. So much of what they do is for the brand, to protect it and promote it, but sometimes it’s nice just to have a cold beer with his best friend under the night sky. He is, after all, a country boy at heart.

They settle around the fire again, watching the flames lick higher. Slowly, Rhett begins to talk, and Link is happy to reminisce with him – they remember old camping trips and days on the road, ski vacations and incredible views. Rhett talks about off-roading, surfing, and hiking, about the mountains and deserts they’ve seen, opening two more beers and punctuating the stories with hefty swallows, and eventually Link sits back and just lets Rhett talk, listening to the timbre of his friend’s voice as it washes over him, stars dotting the sky above him. 

As he listens, the anxiety of the past days and weeks falls away. It feels like they are out of time and space, just the two of them in this forgotten spot of desert, unconnected from the outside world, the outside universe. Rhett’s recent moodiness is gone, his brooding unimportant. Link feels peaceful, secure, as he watches the twinkling stars above him.

Rhett’s voice trails off. Link rolls his head to look at Rhett and finds Rhett already looking back. ‘Remember when you bought that star for me?’ he asks, feeling the words being pulled out of him without knowing why. 

‘Linkstar,’ says Rhett quietly. His gaze does not waver. Link sees the fire reflected in Rhett’s eyes. 

‘Yeah,’ he says, feeling safe and warm and content. ‘That was a nice thing, Rhett.’

‘I know, buddy,’ says Rhett, and it doesn’t feel strange at all when Rhett reaches over and takes his hand. Their fingers intertwine loosely together, hands hanging lightly between them. 

‘Kinda romantic,’ Link says, not sure why, not surprised when Rhett moves in front of him, kneeling between him and the fire so that his silhouette is illuminated like some sort of ethereal being. 

‘It was romantic,’ Rhett says softly. ‘Kinda like now, huh?’

‘Yeah,’ Link agrees. ‘Dunno why, though.’ He smiles lopsidedly, a distant part of his brain wondering what the heck is going on but most of him content to let Rhett lead the way in this new territory. 

‘Feels different, right?’ says Rhett, voice still soft but stronger now. They are almost level like this, Rhett kneeling before him, Link relaxed in the folding lawn chair. ‘Feels a bit like we’re somewhere else in the world.’

Link remembers Rhett’s multiverse story from the last he’d come camping here, and laughs lightly. ‘Another universe, maybe.’

‘Maybe,’ says Rhett, and suddenly Link can see clearly into Rhett’s eyes – they are fierce and bright and alive, and the sleepy peacefulness Link had been feelings vanishes in the blink of an eye. A bolt of clarity hits him and he straightens, adrenaline flooding through him.

‘Maybe another universe, another place, another time,’ Rhett says, clutching both of Link’s hands now. ‘Don’t you think, Link?’

There is a moment where they are both standing at the edge of the precipice, looking down at unknown waters below. Link, as usual, is the first to jump. ‘Yeah, I do,’ he says, and Rhett’s hand is on his face and he is pulled into a kiss. 

The bristle of beard against his cheeks and chin is new, but Rhett’s lips are warm and soft on his. He reaches for Rhett, tugs him closer with two hands on his cheeks, suddenly wanting to feel the solid weight of Rhett’s chest against him. Rhett tilts his head and slants his mouth and white-hot desire goes through Link like electricity. He presses forward until he has both arms around Rhett’s neck, gripping handfuls of burnished blonde hair. Rhett’s mouth is hot and fervent against his, and Link doesn’t think but licks at Rhett’s lips until their tongues touch and he thinks he might die. 

‘Multiverse theory,’ Rhett gasps against his mouth, and Link nods blindly, searching for more contact. ‘Listen, Link – this is the multiverse, do you understand?’

It goes against everything Link was ever taught – in church, in school, in freakin’ summer camp – but the feel of Rhett in his arms is more real than anything else in the world. Link takes one laboured breath and heaves his faith onto this, onto multiverse, onto Rhett. 

‘Yes,’ he breathes, pulling Rhett in for another kiss. ‘This is the multiverse.’

**Author's Note:**

> This could definitely be fleshed out more, and the pacing needs fixing - but that's a job for future me.


End file.
